Rhymes With Witch 2
by PlatinumRoseLady
Summary: Continuation of "Rhymes With Witch". Can Dean get used to his new form? Can Sam get used to his brother being even shorter? Can the author stay serious for more than five minutes? Um, that's a "no", btw.
1. Back At The Motel

**Author's notes: Since I've gotten such awesome feedback (thanks, folks!) I decided to continue this lunac- erm- story. You have to go read "Rhymes with Witch" for this to make much sense, but it wicked short, so I can wait.**

***Looks at wristwatch. Taps foot.***

**Oh, sweet! You came back! Anyway, hope like the further adventures of Sam and Kitty!Dean. (And please don't hate me, all you Dean fangirls, I do adore him but I just couldn't kittyfy Sam.)**

**Language: Some strong words. Hey, boys will be boys…**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Sam, Dean, or Bobby. Maybe if I start saving my pennies… **

_Rhymes With Witch 2_

Chapter One: Back at the motel 

"You have GOT to be kidding me, Sam." Bobby Singer's voice carried a mixture of astonishment and amusement, and amusement was winning.

"I wish I was", replied Sam Winchester with a sigh. "But I'm not. We had this witch cornered, and right before she died she shot off one final spell. Dean pushed me out of the way and now…" Sam risked a look over at his elder brother. Dean, trapped in his new form, was curled into a ball in the middle of his motel bed, tiny ears pressed flat against his head, tail wrapped tightly around his body. A low growl was pulsing from his throat, his whole furry figure giving off his usual "don't mess with me" attitude.

Which given his new smaller stature, was SO not working.

_Dean Winchester, terror of the creatures that prey on the innocent, hunter extraordinaire, reduced to THIS,_ he thought disgustedly. He glared over at Sam, his whole being radiating hot-white rage.

"This. Fucking. SUCKS!" Dean bellowed, which came out as "REEEOOOOW!"

"Dean's a kitten," Sam continued, getting slightly closer to the scowling little being. "A tiny grey kitten with some white stripes. He looks like he's about three or four months old." In spite of himself, Sam's lips curved into a smile. "I've got to tell you, Bobby, he looks awfully cute like – YEOW!"

"Sam?! Sam, what's wrong?! Are you alright?!" Bobby had launched himself out of his chair, as though he'd be able to jump through the phone and be right there to defend Sam. From the other end of the phone came the most dreadful hissing sounds, along with Sam's somewhat panicked voice:

"Get OFF me, you furry little psycho! I'm sorry! It's just that you are kinda cute like – OW! Damn it, Dean, those claws are SHARP! I mean it, stop clawing up my leg! OUCH! Fine! Fine! You know what, I'm sorry you didn't get turned into something more fitting your personality – like a WARTHOG!!! OOOOWWWW! Dude, don't you DARE bite me!"

More hissing and few high-pitched shrieks of rage and/or pain assaulted Bobby's ears. Most of the shrieking were coming from Sam, he was pretty sure. Holding the phone away from his head to preserve what was left of his hearing (not to mention his sanity), he took a breath, then shouted into the phone, "SAM! Put Dean on the phone!"

The silence that followed was so abrupt Bobby was worried that either the connection or Sam's femoral artery had been severed. When Sam's voice came back to the phone, he sounded more than a little out of breath and very confused.

"Um, Bobby? Did you just say…"

"You heard me," Bobby interrupted firmly. "Put Dean on the phone, or near the phone or however you have to do it, I don't care. Just make sure he can hear my voice, you got me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. "I've just gotta get him. He's crawled under the bed." Bobby heard the phone being placed down, and then found himself listening to one of the most bizarre conversations he could remember.

_Sam's voice: "Dean, Bobby wants to talk to you…"_

_A puzzled chirrup._

_Sam: "I don't know! He just said he wanted me to put you on the line!"_

_An almost resigned meow._

_Sam: "I'll just put the phone on the bed and pick you up…"_

"_HISSSSSSSSSS!!!!"_

_Sam: "… or I won't pick you up. You can just jump up there all on your own, okay?"_

"_Mew."_

Sam's voice came back to phone. "Bobby? Just a second."

There was another pause, as Bobby assumed the phone was being placed on the bed. A moment later there was a soft_ thump_ as Dean jumped onto the bed and approached the phone. Bobby could a delicate sniffing sound, and then a soft "Meow?"

"Dean? Can you hear me?"

"Meow."

"Can you understand me?"

"*Sigh* Meow."

Bobby was starting to feel like reality was in the rear-view mirror and going out of sight at about Warp Factor Ten. He coughed once, trying to keep the laugh that was bubbling up in his chest from reaching his voice. "Damn, Dean, it was just ONE witch, how hard could that have been?!"

"Grrrrrrr…."

"Okay, okay, Dean. I'm sorry. Just be glad you've still got your human mind in that body. Sam could be coaxing you down from a tree or something."

"Mew!"

"I'll have to go through my books and see what I can find to fix this. Until then, and I know this is going to make you crazy, but will you PLEASE listen to Sam and not be your usual ornery self?

A low growl. Bobby could almost make out the word "bitch", and he was so glad Dean couldn't see the grin that was covering his face. "I mean it, Dean. Right now you've got be extra careful and keep yourself hidden."

"Meow?"

"Well, think about it for a minute, willya? Can you shoot a gun right now? Perform an exorcism? Exactly what are you gonna do if someone or _something_ decided to attack? Throw up a hairball?"

"ROWR!!!!! HISSSS!!!!! FFFFT!!!!" Bobby held the phone away from his ear as the furious stream of noise poured from the receiver. He could hear Sam trying to play peacemaker by saying "Dean, Bobby's only telling you the truth…", which brought another enraged torrent of yowls from Dean's lips, this time directed away from the phone and back at his brother. Bobby could feel a headache coming on; why did he always seem to get headaches around Winchesters?

"_Oh yeah, that's why"_ he thought dryly. _"'Cause they're Winchesters and crazy shit like THIS happens to them on a pretty much daily basis."_

"DEAN! Quit yowling -um- yelling at your brother and calm down!" Silence reigned for a moment, then Bobby hurt Sam's hurt mutter of "I was only trying to help" before a slightly calmer "Meow" came through the phone. Bobby sighed. "That's better. Dean, I know you're really freaked out right now…"

A "humph-Meow" that sounded suspiciously like "No shit"

"But you've got to trust me. And your brother. You know Sam would never let anything happen to you, right?

A pause, followed by a grumbling "Mew."

"So you and Sam just stay put for a few days, okay? I'll find out how to fix this for you, I swear." Bobby raised his voice a notch, "Sam? You right there?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Just standing here getting death glares from Dean…"

"Sam, get that laugh outta your voice before he decides to shred your legs again."

Sam coughed once. "I'm-I'm fine. So we should just stay put, then?"

"For now, until I can get some research done and figure out how to reverse this. In the meantime, just take care of him. He's going to need you a lot right now. What's he's he doing?"

"Trying to climb the curtains."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Just keep him out of trouble until I call back, okay?"

"Okay. And thanks, Bobby."

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything." With that, Bobby hung up.

Sam shut the phone and turned back to the curtains, where Dean had made it about halfway up before getting his claws snagged into the material. The look he threw Sam was a mixture of "Get me down NOW" and "Please don't laugh right now, I feel bad enough as it is."

Sam ran his hands through his hair, and let his breath out with a soft _whoosh_. He walked over and gently unhooked Dean's claws and held the kitten to his chest. "What am I gonna do with you, huh? You may be smaller, but you're still gonna be a troublemaker, I can just feel it.

Dean squirmed a little in Sam's grasp to get a little more comfortable, and started to softly purr.

Authors notes: Well, what did you guys think? More to come. Feedback is (almost) better than chocolate!

Dean: Why do I always get picked on?

Sam: Because you deserve it. And the author did say she likes you.

Dean: Lucky me. Think what she must do to people that piss her off…


	2. Coping To An Extent

**Author's notes: And the insanity continues. Thanks so much for the feedback, everybody!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own "Supernatural". Don't own Sam. Don't own Dean. Don't own Bobby (Going off to sulk about it…)**

**Spoiler alert: None**

**Language warning: They're red-blooded males, what do you expect?!**

Dean: Does this HAVE to continue?! I have a reputation, ya know!

Sam: Yeah, so you'd think this would be an improvement, then.

Dean (glares): You're evil, you know that don't you?

Sam: Not as evil as the author.

Dean: True. Although I'm startin' to think she might be more crazy than evil…

Sam: (Wide eyes… inches away from Dean to avoid Author Wrath)

**--------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter 2: Coping… to an extent

It had been about five hours since Sam had talked to Bobby, and he'd pretty much convinced himself that while the situation was (even by Winchester standards) pretty messed up, it could be worse.

_It can ALWAYS be worse,_ Sam thought darkly,_but Dean seems to be actually coping with this._ He turned away from the desk where he'd been working on his laptop (and finding a grand total of zilch when it came to help), to observe his brother.

Dean's way of coping with his transformation had been, for the last few hours, crawling all over their motel room, climbing up and down the curtains, and rubbing up against each and every stick of furniture.

And Sam's legs.

Each time Dean passed by Sam's feet he'd weave between his legs, making the universal "This is mine" cat gesture. The first time it happened Sam yelped in surprise – his eyes had been shut as the adrenaline from this latest slice of lunacy that he called his life was ebbing. Dean's tail had brushed against him and gone right up his pants leg and the brief tickle had startled him.

"Ack! Dude! What the hell? Do I look like a chair to you?"

The tiny feline turned and gave his brother a look that, kitten or not, Sam could instantly read as _"You don't want an answer to that one, do ya, Sammy?"_ Dean then made that endearing little_chirrup_ noise and went back to exploring.

And as weird as this felt, Dean himself had to admit that he knew from bitter experience that things right now could be a whole lot more unpleasant. The spell that had been fired at him could have been something a LOT more fatal. Or it could've hit Sam. Dean was convinced Sammy would've made a lousy kitten. _Probably wouldn't look half as good as I do,_ he thought smugly.

That thought brought Dean to a halt during his prowl, his brow suddenly creasing in thought. What did he look like, anyway? He'd only caught a glimpse of himself, a little furry puffball swimming in his clothes after Sam had snatched him up and ran back to the Impala, and that had been all. He'd seen himself for the briefest second in the car's window and then his mind had kinda gone blank until they'd made it back to the motel.

_Well, one way to find out,_ he decided, heading over to the dresser, with its large mirror. He was about to attempt the (rather lofty) jump up when suddenly Sam's voice rang out:

"Whoa, whoa, Dean! What are you doing?!" In a split-second, Sam was sitting on the carpet next to Dean, his whole form radiating concern.

"Merow?"

Sam reached out and scooped the kitten into his arms. Dean tried to wriggle free – it felt too fucking WEIRD that Sam kept picking him up – but for some strange reason he found himself calming down as he was pressed so close to Sam's chest could hear his brother's heartbeat.

Dean let out a faint sigh, and found to his surprise how freaking comfortable he felt like this. _ Considering I'm probably about to get a lecture, from my little brother yet…_ he thought, his ears twitching in semi-annoyance.

Sam looked up at the bureau in confusion, then back down at his brother. "Up there? Why do you want to – oh, I get it. You want to take a better look at yourself. Dean, that's way too high, and there's stuff all over the counter. You could have hurt yourself!"

_Aaaaand here's the lecture, right on time,_ he thought, giving Sam a distinctly pouty "Mew." He hated how petulant that last one sounded, but Sam treating him like he was helpless was starting to grate on his nerves; he was still able to judge distances, thank you very much, and it hadn't seemed all THAT far.

"Hey, c'mon, don't sulk. I'll put you up there so you can see." Sam gave his brother a gentle pat on the head as he unfolded his long legs, and got up from the floor. Dean took one look down, gave a slightly fearful "Meep!" then swallowed and shut his eyes tightly. Being so small, it seemed like the floor was getting further and further away much too quickly for his liking. He could hear Sam pushing away the duffle bags that had been blocking the mirror, then felt himself being placed upon the bureau.

"There," said Sam, taking a step back. "You can open your eyes now."

Dean opened his eyes – and stared at the ball of fluff in the mirror. He was a shorthaired cat, all soft curves and fuzz with just a dot of kittenish chubbiness. His fur was light grey in coloring, with four bands of white tapering up his tail. He twitched his nose, watched in fascination as the little pink button nose on Mirror Dean moved in unison. Wide green eyes stared back from a daintily whiskered face that – it made him sick to admit it – was pretty adorable.

_I look like I belong on a fucking greeting card or something_, he thought, as he reached out one tiny front paw to touch the mirror, and his reflection did the same.

"Awww…" Sam clapped his right hand over his mouth, and turned away, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, from the scene playing out in front of him. He was certain if he even breathed too loudly Dean would whirl around and launch at him again, all spitting and teeth and claws.

But then he risked a quick look over his shoulder, and the grin left his face faster than if someone had flipped a switch. He turned around to face not a whirlwind of feline fury, but a picture of utter dejection.

Dean had taken his paw away from the mirror, but now his bowed head rested again the glass. His shoulders were slumped, and a tremor shook his little frame; even the tip his tail drooped as it hung over the edge of the bureau.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, and willed back the sudden tears that were pricking at the back of his eyes. A Pissed Off Dean he could deal with; just let him rant and rave (or at this time yowl and scratch) and sooner or later he'd calm down. This Suddenly Overwhelmed Dean was different and more than a little unnerving for both Winchesters.

_Poor Dean,_ he thought,_it's finally setting in how things are for now,__and you're scared to death. You're not used to feeling so tiny and vulnerable. _ He walked back over to the bureau, gently picked Dean up, held him close and rocked him back and forth. Again he briefly tried to squirm away, but just like before as he settled down against Sam's chest, he began to calm down. The trembling began to ebb as Dean started to purr.

"Don't worry, Dude", Sam said tenderly, "there's got to be some way to change you back. In the meantime, I'll take good care of you. Hey, that's what brothers do, right?" He ended that question with a chuckle and a scritch between the ears as he tried to lighten Dean's mood.

Dean "mewed" softly, then stretched up and gently butted the top of his head against the bottom of Sam's chin. A loud_gurgle_ suddenly issued from the kitten's stomach, and this time Sam couldn't stop his laughter. He held Dean out in front of him so that the brothers were now eye to eye. Well, eye to cat's-eye, anyway.

"Same old Dean, always hungry! Actually, so am I. Hold on, I'll check out what we've got." Sam placed the kitten on back down on the nearest bed, walked over to the unit's medium sized fridge, and held open the door for a quick inventory. Other than a rather dubious looking quarter of pizza and a six-pack of beer, it was pretty bare. "Nothing here you can have, and that pizza looks like kind of iffy. I'll run over to the Mini Mart for supplies and get you some cat food…"

"Hisss!"

"Dean, come on…"

"Mrowr!"

"You can't eat human food right now, it'll make you sick. Especially the junk you usually have." Sam didn't even want to think what would happen if Dean got a hold of chili cheese fries or something like that.

The kitten jumped off the bed, and with a graceful leap made it to the desk. He nudged aside the curtain, then turned and fixed Sam with a pleading gaze. Sam took a look out the window at the small restaurant across the street, then back down at his brother. They'd eaten there the day before (Was it only the day before? It seemed like a lifetime ago…), and Dean had remarked that the fried chicken had been pretty good.

"Well, I guess some chicken would be okay." Dean chirruped happily in agreement.

_Now at least he's seeing things a little more my way,_ he thought_, although I'd better not push my luck asking for some of that beer. Man, could I use one right now. _

Sam grabbed his jacket from the wall hanger and slipped it on, checking to make sure he had his wallet and cell phone with him. When he turned towards the door, Dean was sitting right in front of it, eyes sparkling at the prospect of getting some dinner. Sam's heart sank; he'd had a feeling this was going to happen.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Dean blinked. "Mrow?" _Where the hell do you think I'm going, genius? I'm going with you._

"Dean, you can't come with me. You know that."

Green eyes narrowed at Sam, and a low rumble vibrated through the kitten's frame. At least Dean intended it to be a rumble – instead it came out as a rather pitiful whine.

"If I walk in there with you, we're both gonna get kicked out. You don't exactly look like a Seeing Eye dog or something, you know" Sam knelt down so that he was closer to his brother. "I promise, I'll only be gone for a few minutes, okay? Just long enough to get us some dinner. You'll be safer in here. Now please stay in the room. Please?"

Dean gave a disgusted sigh and another "Meow". _Damn it, I can't resist the Puppy Eyes. Even in this form I can't say no to the Puppy Eyes. _With an exaggerated shrug of his little shoulders, he got up and moved away from the door.

Sam reached out and gave his brother another scritch on the head; at that second it took everything Dean had not to take a nip at his brother's fingers.

Partially because he was still miffed at being left behind; partially because Sam hadn't scritched him long enough.

_Hey, that feels really good, why'd you stop – what the FUCK am I thinking?! _Dean jumped over up on his bed and curled himself into a ball as Sam stood up.

"I'll be right back, Dean, I swear." Sam walked out the door, made DAMN sure it was locked, and headed over to the little diner.

Leaving Dean with his thoughts, a growling stomach… and to his growing concern for the need for more scritches.

Tbc…

Author's notes: Wow, I've gotten so much feedback on this. I'm glad everyone likes it! Please review if you get the chance!

Coming up: Chapter Three – "When The Sam's Away, The Dean Will Play"

Dean: Now what the hell does THAT mean?!

Sam: Beats me.

Dean: I've changed my mind – I am now convinced this author's evil, and… um, Sam? Why are you standing way over there?

Sam: Oh, no reason…


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: Thanks for all the feedback and the nice words, everyone! They mean a great deal to me.** **I'm sorry the updates haven't been coming as fast as they should. Sometimes between Real Life, Writer's Block, and trying to write other stories I don't know which end is up. However, I can promise that this story will get completed... it just might take a little bit.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone you recognize, including Sam, Dean & Bobby (sniffle). The Original Characters are mine.**

**Spoilers: Season Four, but set after "Wishful Thinking". In other words, yes, this is Post-Hell Dean**.

**Language warning: Here there be cussing. Deal with it.**

**Just a few quick shout outs:**

**Nscara: Dean in a cat carrier would probably go hand in hand with Sam in the Emergency Room.**

**Fictionnaire: You read my mind. (Big grin) Something in this chapter I'm sure you'll like.**  
**__________________________________________________________________**

Dean: Why do I have this feeling that the above statement is going to lead to me breaking out into a rash?

Sam: Huh?

Dean: I'm ALLERGIC to cute, you moron!

Sam: No, what you are is a total Drama Queen.

Dean: Bitch.

PlatinumRoseLady: Dean! No swearing until the story starts, if you please!

Sam: (Sing-song voice) Ooooh, Dean's gonna get it…

Dean: Real mature, Sammy.

PlatinumRoseLady: Sam, don't tease your brother…

Sam: Yes, ma'am.

Dean: (Mutters) Suck up.

PlatinumRoseLady: (Grins evilly) That's MY job.

Dean: (Gulps)

Author: And on with the show!

Chapter 3: When The Sam's Away, The Dean Will Play

Time seemed like to stretch out in front of Dean and waver, to shimmer and lose its structure. The kitten rolled all over the bed as he tried to find the most comfortable spot. This was a much harder task than he would have liked to admit; and once one got rolling sometimes it was not so easy to stop. Twice he'd nearly rolled himself straight off the bed, and while he was pretty sure he wouldn't have hurt himself, Dean wasn't sure how much more battering his ego could take. Once he'd found a comfortable depression in the covers up near the top, just below where the pillow ended, he gave out with an enormous yawn and settled down again.

_Settled down, not snuggled down,_ he told himself. _Dean Winchester__ does NOT snuggle._

He knew in his heart that Sam hadn't been gone for long, maybe twenty minutes at the most. It still seemed to be taking forever for his brother to come back with food.

_He's probably got that hot little cashier hanging all over him again,_ he thought, whiskers twitching in exasperation. _ That figures – I'm sitting here fucking STARVING and he's… hey, what's that? _ His attention was distracted from his grousing by a flicker of movement in the corner of his left eye. He turned his head, and realized that the motion had been his own tail, the tip slowly flicking back and forth, back and forth…

Dean started to dig his claws into the blanket, as a curious combination of a growl and a whimper left his throat. He turned and made himself stare at the table that sat between the two beds, all the while giving himself a stern lecture:

_Oh no. Oh shit NO. Oh HELL NO! There is no way I am chasing my own tail. No. Fucking. Way…_

His head didn't move the next time that annoying flash of grey appeared, just his eyes.

_Fight it, Dean! C'mon! This is stupid! It's your own tail! If Sam sees you chasing it, you'll NEVER live it down…_

_Of course…_ Dean's head began to turn, eyes narrowing as he gave his tail the same amount of concentration he'd give a nest of vampires.

_Sam's not here…_

With a lunge, Dean whirled and made a grab for his tail, which he promptly missed. Another grab lead to another, and soon he was spinning in a series of tight little circles, happily trying to capture his tail. He chased it the entire length of the bed, running faster and faster, the damn tip ALWAYS seeming to be just out of his reach. He almost plunged head-first off the bed at least a half dozen times, but he was so determined that his tail was not going to get the best of him he hardly noticed. It took a few minutes, but with a spring he collapsed against the mattress, bouncing up and down with adrenaline, tail clasped firmly between his front paws. His breathing was a little uneven; the room was spinning crazily…

And he felt terrific. A giddy purr filled the motel room; had he'd still been human he knew he'd have been breathless with laughter. _ DAMN, that was… fun! No wonder cats love doing that!_

He flopped back down on the bed, trying to ignore the urge to take up the chase again. He gave his tail a stern glance. _Don't you start again_ he lectured it, pretty much daring it to start moving once more.

_Okay, now what else can I do?_ Dean thought, looking around with a speculative glance. _The curtains again?_ The kitten's eyes sparkled with mischief. _Nah, that's no fun without Sam being here. It's a helluva lot more funny watching him throw a fit._

He glanced over at the other bed. _I wonder if I can make that jump?_ He stood up, took a deep breath, and launched himself through the air. With a slightly yielding_thump_ he landed right in the middle of Sam's bed. _All right! Check out the cat-like reflexes on… um, I'm not finishing that thought. _ He turned around and made another leap, landing squarely in the center of his own bed. _This is actually kinda cool!_ He turned and made the jump again, spun around, gave his backside a slight wiggle and leapt again. Each time he landed with a bounce Dean gave out with a pleased "Mew!" or _chirrup_, finding no end of amusement in round after round of Bed Trampoline.

Meanwhile…

Sam walked out of the restaurant, the bag containing dinner for himself and Dean swinging from his hand. He quickly walked across the road into the early evening, made a fast stop into the Mini Mart for a few more supplies, and headed back to the motel. He was almost at their room when a pleasant voice called out:

"Mr. Kiefer? Hello?"

Sam turned around, hoping he didn't look too startled. Sometimes the whole alias thing got to him, and he wished he could just go by his own first and last name. At this stop, the Moonlight Inn in Harpersville, Nevada, he was Sam Kiefer (at least, that was the name on his credit card). He gave a friendly smile to the slight, middle-aged woman approaching him.

"Oh, hi there, Mrs. Simms. Is everything okay?"

Juliet Simms, the proprietor of the Moonlight, gave Sam a polite smile in return. "Oh, yes. At least I'm… Mr. Kiefer, you haven't seen Dawn, have you?"

Sam blinked. In the past few days that he and Dean had been in town, he'd gotten to know a little about Mrs. Simms; there didn't seem to be a Mister Simms around any longer, and she lived in the small house behind the inn with her daughter, an eight year old tomboy named Dawn. Sam had seen her riding her bike around the parking lot quite a bit, and she always gave him a cheerful wave. She was a friendly, chatty young girl, proudly telling the Winchesters how she helped her mother run the motel "now that Dad was gone".

"Um, no, I'm sorry. I haven't seen her since yesterday."

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Simms ran her hand through her short ash blonde hair, grey-green eyes full of worry. "I've told her and I've TOLD her I want her back here before dark. She just loves riding that bike of hers so much, she loses all track of time."

"Er…" Sam tried to inch back a little closer to the door, but he couldn't shake his conflicted feelings. He hated the idea of leaving Dean alone any longer then he had to, but he could tell Mrs. Simms was truly worried. He knew he'd be freaking out if he had no idea was Dean was and…

"Mom! Hey, Mom!"

Mrs. Simms whirled around, thankfully missing Sam's sigh of relief. Dawn Simms was riding her bike up to meet the pair of them, long auburn hair trailing, a puzzled frown on her young face.

"Dawn! Where in the world have you been?" Her mother didn't bother to hide the relief in her voice, nor the annoyance.

"Just down to Cassidy's house, her dog had her puppies last night. I TOLD you that's where I was going!" She looked over at Sam, and gave him a mischievous, gap-toothed grin. "Hey, Mister Kiefer. Hope Mom hasn't been bothering you being all, y'know, 'mom-like'."

"Dawn! Really!" Her mother was clearly NOT amused. "You are coming very close to getting grounded, young lady!"

Sam gave the girl a smile. "Oh, I'm doing fine, Dawn, but you may not be if you keep scaring your mom like that."

Dawn rolled her brown eyes, and gave both Sam and her mother the typical "grown-ups don't know anything" look. "C'mon, Mr. Keifer, I know you've only been here for a few days but you can see that nothing exciting EVER happens around here. I mean, Mom acts like I'm gonna turn the corner and some guy with a hockey mask is gonna jump out and get me…"

"Dawn Juniper Simms, you quit talking like that this instant!" Mrs. Simms turned to Sam with an embarrassed smile. "I'm so very sorry, Mr. Kiefer. She watches those awful movies with her friends sometimes…." For the first time she noticed the bag from the restaurant Sam was carrying (the sack from the Mini Mart he'd been able to place on the ground and shield with his body). "Oh, here I am bothering you, and you've got your dinner getting cold! I'm –"

"Please, Mrs. Simms, it's okay. I'm just glad Dawn's fine."

"Well, we won't keep you any longer. Have a good night, Mr. Keifer." She gave him another warm smile, then Mrs. Simms turned to head back to her home, Dawn following on her bike. Dawn gave him a wave as she turned the corner, and Sam waved back, calling out "Good night."

_Whew! Crisis averted_ he thought, shoulders slumping in relief. Mrs. Simms was a pretty nice lady, but she did sometimes ramble on and she was a bit of a worrier. _ Not sure how I could have explained the cat food and the other stuff._ He grimaced as he thought about how Dean was going to deal with "the other stuff". Especially one purchase; it had been a spur of the moment buy, and Sam was well aware he'd taken his life into his own hands by getting it. _ Oh well,_ he concluded with a smirk as he picked up the other bag, then fished out his keys,_ he'll see the humor in it. Eventually. I hope._

Opening the door, he called out "I'm back, I – DEAN!" Sam had walked in right as the kitten that was his older brother had made one spectacular leap his bed onto Sam's. For a few seconds Dean seemed to hang in the air, the look on his face one of total surprise. He bounced onto Sam's bed a little too hard, and his momentum shot him through the air like a fuzzy dart. He flew straight through the open bathroom door, and skidded on the bath mat. Sam cringed as he heard the sound of a tiny body whacking into the side of the bathtub, followed by a colorful stream of yowls that he was pretty sure was cat speech for "You fucking idiot!"

Sam dropped the bags, ran over to the bathroom, looked in… and tried so very hard not to laugh. The bath mat had indeed slid up against the tub, curling around the feline like a blanket. Only Dean's head, ears flat and green eyes blazing, were visible inside the folds of the powder blue mat.

Sam knelt down, untangled the kitten and held him in his arms, gently checking for injuries. Dean let out one angry "Hisssss!" but it was obvious that what was hurt the most was his pride. Sam sat cross–legged on the floor, cradled him close and chuckled into the soft fur.

"So that's how you decided to pass the time, huh? Doing the High Jump?" He gently scritched Dean's stomach, delighting in the fact that his mood lightened immediately as he purred and swatted playfully at Sam's fingers.

_D-dammit, Sammy, how am I supposed to be m-mad at you when you keep doing that?! It kinda t-tickles!_ Dean squirmed a little, bubbles of happiness popping in his brain from the sensations.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" Sam didn't even try to keep the grin off of his face, nor the laughter out of his voice as he watched how relaxed, how actually_ happy_ Dean was. He had been worried that after everything he'd already been through, this newest chapter in the weirdness that was their lives would be the final straw. But he there he was, actually playing like a cat, being carefree and content. None of the guilt, none of the burdens Dean had been forced to carry shone through his eyes.

He knew that his brother still had his human mind, but maybe, just maybe his time in a feline form would keep his memories of Hell at bay.

And if that happened, maybe that witch hadn't been so wicked after all.

Sam rubbed a spot right under Dean's chin, and the thrumming purr that issued from the tiny cat sounded like the revving of a Harley. "That's all I'm good for now, huh, scritching you and getting you food?"

At the mention of "food", Dean's head snapped up, and for the first time he caught the scent of the chicken in the other room. His stomach gave out with another growl, and with a "Meow!" he twisted out of Sam's grasp and practically bounced out of the bathroom.

Scritches were fine… but there was food nearby, and THAT took precedence.

Sam hauled himself off the floor, calling out as he went to join his brother in the other room "Dean, get away from that bag! You're not hogging all that chicken!"

________________________________________________________________________  
Chapter Four: Dinner and a Show

Dean: … (He's sitting down, not talking, staring straight ahead.)

Sam: Um, Dean? (Waves his hand in front of Dean's face.) You in there? Helloooo… (Turns to the Author) Um, I think you broke him, Platinum.

PlatinumRoseLady: (Sighs. Sits down next to Dean).You'd think he'd be a little grateful.

Dean: (Snaps his head around and glares at Platinum.) Grateful? GRATEFUL?! You turned me into a cat!

PlatinumRoseLady: Actually, I turned you into a kitten… (Dean growls.) Oh come on, Dean! Have you read some of the other fics out there?! I mean, people have totally put you BOTH through the wringer… this is NOT the worst thing I could have done to you!

Dean: It isn't?

Sam: Really? What else could you have –

Dean: (Smacks Sam upside the head) Don't encourage her!


	4. Dinner and a Show

**Author's Notes: Thanks so very much to everyone who's been to kind to leave a review! The times between chapters can be kinda long, I know. Can't help that… Real Life and all. But this story will get done! It just may take a bit.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anyone you recognize, including Sam, Dean & Bobby, or anybody else that you recognize (sniffle). The Original Characters are mine.**

**Spoilers: Season Four, but set after "Wishful Thinking". In other words, yes, this is Post-Hell Dean**.

**Language warning: Here there be cussing. Which if you've been reading my stuff, really shouldn't shock you anymore**

**________________________________________________________________________**

PlatinumRoseLady: Okay, guys, let's get Chapter Four on the road! I – (Notices that there seems to be one less Winchester brother around than there should be) Sam, where's Dean?

Sam: Um, yeah. (Chuckles uneasily) Well, you know, there's a really funny story behind that, Platinum…

PlatinumRoseLady: (Eyes narrowing; she's not liking this) Oh, really. I can't wait to hear it.

Sam: Well, you remember what you told us last chapter? How people have done much worse things to Dean than turning him into a kitten? (Platinum nods) So he took your advice and read some of those stories… actually a lot of them.

PlatinumRoseLady: (She's liking this less and less) Go on.

Sam: (Sighs) He totally freaked out and now he's locked himself in the Impala.

PlatinumRoseLady: (Now it's her turn to sigh. Pinches the bridge of her nose to stave off the oncoming headache) Fan-fucking-tastic.

Sam: Hey, what happened to no swearing before the story starts?

PlatinumRoseLady: The fact that you have an idiot for a brother.

Dean: (His voice sounds a little far-off) HEY! I can still HEAR you, you know!

PlatinumRoseLady: Dean, get out here.

Dean: No way!

PlatinumRoseLady: Winchester, this stopped being funny about five seconds ago. Now get your ass out here and let's get this chapter going! People are waiting.

Dean: Forget it! They can wait all they want!

PlatinumRoseLady: Fine. I didn't want to do this… (Snaps her fingers)

(Dean yelps. Sam's eyes get really wide as he stares at Platinum)

Sam: You didn't.

PlatinumRoseLady: (Smirks) I did.

(Dean comes STORMING in and gets right in Platinum's face.) What the fuck did you do with my CAR?! One minute I'm sitting there, the next my ass is on the ground and my baby's gone! (Glares at Sam) Can she DO that?!

Sam: She's the Author, Dean. She can pretty much do what she likes… (Sam's voice trails off as he realizes the implications of that statement. Looks over at Platinum. She smiles brightly at him, and he smiles back a little nervously) Now, you will give us the car back, right, Platinum? (Sam turns on the Puppy Eyes for Maximum Effectiveness)

PlatinumRoseLady: You know, you really are awfully cute when you do that… (Takes Sam's hand) I'm sure I could come up with some great poetry about you.

Sam: (Blushes, smiles) R-really? Wow, that's very nice of you to…

Dean (Yelling): EXCUSE ME! I hate to break up the love-fest here, but this… this (Points at Platinum)… person who's getting REALLY CLOSE to winding up with a butt full of rock salt took the car!!!!

PlatinumRoseLady: You'll get it back when you can learn some impulse control. (Dean looks like he's about to do something he's not going to regret. Platinum lets go of Sam's hand. She reaches out and touches Dean's shoulder, looking up at him very earnestly.) I really am sorry, Dean. I should have warned you. There are a lot of great writers out there, but they do like to put you guys through the wars.

Dean: (Calming down slightly) Will you promise me a few things? Promise me Sam's not gonna go all Darkside in this story and I have to kill him?

PlatinumRoseLady: That's what has you so upset? (She can see that Dean is almost on the verge of tears at the idea of hurting Sam) Fine, I promise.

Dean: (Takes a deep breath) Promise me I'm not gonna go all Darkside in this story and Sam has to kill me?

PlatinumRoseLady: I can promise that, too. Neither of you are going Darkside in this story. You have my word of honor. And the car's right where you left it.

Dean: (Looks behind him and breaks out into a wide grin) All right! My baby's back! (Turns back around and give Platinum the Dean Winchester "I'm being totally serious" stare) Lady, don't you EVER do something like that again. Got me?

PlatinumRoseLady: (Her voice drops down to a sexy purr) Oooh, Dean, I get all tingly when you take charge like that.

(Sam bursts out laughing. He and Platinum walk off, arm in arm, discussing the upcoming chapter. Dean glares after them.)

Dean: I give up. (Shakes his head, walking off in the other direction) Authors…

**Really quick note:** Dean's whole reaction is NOT a slam on anyone who's written an Evil!Sam or Evil!Dean fic. I've read my fair share of both and find them awesome, but I think those kinds of stories would really REALLY freak Dean out. So hope nobody was offended.

And now….

Chapter 4: Dinner and a Show

Even though Dean had two extra legs now, Sam's were still longer. Before the kitten was able to dive headfirst into the bag from the diner, Sam had reached it and picked it up out of his reach. Dean's momentum once again proved to be his downfall as he was unable to stop in time and ran straight into Sam's right leg.

The effect was rather like what would happen if one threw a cotton ball at a redwood tree. Sam hardly felt a thing, but Dean bounced right off and rolled along the floor head over tail before bringing himself to a stop by sinking all of his claws into the carpet.

He shook himself, each and every piece of fur standing on end. "Rowr! Meow! Fffffft!" Dean snarled. His entire being radiated the attitude _"What's the big fucking idea?!"_

"I said I'd get you some chicken, and I did" Sam said, walking out into the kitchen, holding the bag well out of Dean's range. "I didn't say that I was going to just let you stick your face in the bag and inhale it. This stuff's full of bones, Dean. You could choke. Let me just get it ready for you and then we'll eat, okay?"

Dean had followed his brother out into the kitchen, and began to wind himself around Sam's legs. The most pitiful mewling noises began to issue from his throat, and he looked up at the bag with wide, pleading emerald green eyes.

Sam, however, was unmoved. "Dude, you sound like you haven't eaten for months! Stop being such a… whoa!" Sam did a quick two-step to avoid stepping on the kitten, who'd made another pass between his legs. "Dean, I'm serious, QUIT IT!" He glared down at the diminutive creature at his feet (well, tried to glare, anyway). He could have sworn that the look on Dean's face was a smirk before it was quickly replaced with one of total hurt innocence. Sam's resolve began to falter even further; it was impossible to stay annoyed with Dean while he was in this new form. "Don't do that to me, bro… c'mon, that's not fair."

Dean sighed, a weary, miserable "the entire Universe hates me" sigh, and turned up the pathos in his gaze. _Let's see how YOU like getting the Sad Eye Treatment for a change, Sam _he thought. _Bet I can get him to cave super easy like this. Maybe I can even get some of that beer!_

"When did you get so sneaky?" Sam questioned, torn between feeling guilty and laughing out loud at how piteous his brother was acting. At least, he hoped it was acting. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, okay?" Dean instantly perked up again, gave out with a_ chirrup_, and butted his head against Sam's ankle. "But I mean it. Neither of us is going to feel really good if you trip me and I fall on you. So just stay still for a second, okay? Please?"

Dean mewed in agreement. He hadn't thought about that scenario. The notion of Sam falling on him was not one he wanted to think about; he'd be smashed flat!

Sam started taking containers out of the bag, placing them on the kitchen counter. When he opened the container that held the chicken, the moment its scent reached Dean's nose he started purring again, his tail whipping back and forth in anticipation.

_Oh man, does that smell GOOD! I thought it smelled great yesterday, but today… there's so many different smells! _ Dean couldn't get over the multilayered effect having a cat's heightened senses brought. From the moist chicken, to the crunchy skin, to the spices, even the oil it had been cooked in – he could pick out each and every flavor. He began to work his jaws together, and tiny smacking noises left his mouth. He could almost TASTE the chicken just from the scents wafting down to him.

Sam picked out a medium sized drumstick and a section of thigh meat, held them out so Dean could see. "These pieces okay?" he asked. When Dean nodded, purring even louder, his brother grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes" he said. He began to peel off the skin, but stopped when Dean started to yowl, disappointment evident in every syllable. "Dean, please trust me, okay? I really don't think your system can take all this spicy stuff. The chicken will taste just fine, don't worry."

"Meeeeeooooooow!" _ Aw, Sam, you're taking off the best part! Cut me a little slack, willya?_

Sam fixed the kitten with one of his more devastating "Bitch Faces", and Dean stopped his complaining with an annoyed_ huff_. After he made sure there wasn't a scrap of skin left on either piece, Sam pulled a paper towel from its holder and began to blot off any extra oil, and cleaned his hands as well. Next came the knife, which Sam used to scrape off each and every bit of meat he could. He then pushed all the pieces into a little mound, and began to chop them up even smaller, trying to make them a little more bite-sized.

Dean could hardly stay still another second. That chicken smelled WAY too delicious to wait any longer. The kitten gathered up his strength, wiggled his hindquarters, and leapt up towards the counter. Unfortunately, his aim was slightly off, and after a somewhat dodgy landing he tumbled straight into the kitchen sink.

Sam didn't even look up from his task. "Smooth move, Lion-O", he said with a smirk. He knew the sink was not only empty but also bone-dry, so Dean was unhurt. When he did raise his head, calmly amused hazel eyes were met by the blazing green ones that peeked up at him over the rim of the sink. He might not be injured, but at the moment Dean was the poster kitten for how to look pissed off and sweet at the same time. Sam moved the pile of minced chicken onto the center of one of the paper plates from the diner, and brought it into the other room. He spread out a few sheets of newspaper on Dean's bed, placed the plate on top of that. He walked back out into the kitchen, trying (and failing) to keep from chuckling at the furry bundle glaring at him.

"Need some help?"

"Mrowr." _ Oh noooo, Sam, I'm just sitting in the fucking SINK for shits and giggles._ "Rowr!" _ Now quit grinning at me and GET ME OUTTA HERE!_

Sam reached out to pick Dean out of the sink, when the kitten leapt up once again, and dashed up Sam's left arm. He gasped slightly as the tiny claws stuck his shirt as Dean raced up to perch on his shoulder. It didn't hurt, since Dean wasn't digging them in, but it still felt a little odd. Sam turned his head slightly, bumped noses with his brother.

"You make one goofy-looking parrot," Sam said, his smile deepening the dimples in his handsome features.

"Prrow." _ You make one goofy-looking pirate_ Dean retorted. He pointed his left front paw at the bag containing the rest of the food. "Mew!" _ Now let's eat!_

Sam picked up the bag and walked (carefully) back into the other room. When they got close enough to the bed Dean jumped off his shoulder, landing in the center of the pillow. Shoulders low, he began to walk towards his meal, purring with anticipation.

Sam pulled the chair over from the desk, watching the scene playing out before him as he set up the rest of the food on the bed. While Dean was distracted he reached into the bag from the Mini Mart, and pulled out a small white bowl, which he filled with some water from one of the bottles he'd bought. He didn't think placing the bowl on the bed was a good idea, so for the moment he put it on the floor. His lips quirked into an even bigger grin as he cracked open his own bottle of water. Dean looked so focused, so determined to devour his meal with his eyes before any of it touched his mouth.

_I'm probably risking getting clawed again_ Sam thought as an idea began to form. _ Oh, what the hell. It'll be worth it. _

"And as the mighty lion stalks his helpless prey, the wild Serengeti fried chicken rests, unaware of its gruesome fate…" Sam's voice had dropped to a breathless whisper; he sounded like the host of a nature program. Dean stopped, looked at him with narrowed eyes. One dainty front paw raised off the bed, pointed at his brother. Sam blinked, more than a little confused. His claws spread apart as wide as he could he get them, Dean was obviously trying to tell him something, but what could it…

Sam choked on a sip of his water. "Dean, are… are you trying to flip me off?!" Dean put the paw down with an exasperated sigh. Not having fingers anymore sucked. Sam couldn't stop the giggles that bubbled up even if he wanted to. "J-just eat the chicken, you goof."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He stuck his tiny muzzle directly into the center of the shredded chicken. There was a moment of silence, then an explosion of noise erupted from his portion of the bed as Dean started to violently sneeze and cough, the force of both pushing his body away from the plate and closer to the edge of the bed.

Sam dropped his piece of chicken, stood up and grabbed Dean before he launched himself off the bedcovers. Collapsing back into his chair he cradled the kitten to his chest, confused at what could have cause such a severe response. "Dean, are you okay? What's the matter?" Sam was panicked that something in the chicken was causing an allergic reaction, but Dean didn't seem to be in any pain. The coughing quickly subsided but his brother continued to sneeze, even as his front paws wiped at his nose, scattering bits of dinner all over the place.

_I'm sure I got off all the skin, I can't… oh duh Sam, that's what's wrong_ he realized with a slight gasp of understanding. Dean had been so eager to eat that he'd gotten a few chicken slivers right up his little nose. Sam took one of the napkins, and gently wiped away the scraps of chicken still stuck to the kitten's face. As he ministered to his brother, the sneezes began to die down, until Dean gave one last petite_ atchoo! _ He shook himself, looked up into Sam's face with a startled gaze that just screamed_ Okay, what the fuck just happened?!_

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Dean looked so sweet and utterly confused, wide green eyes blinking up at him. "Dude, I think you need to take the whole eating thing a little… um, slower. I know you're hungry, but you're going to keep getting half your dinner up your nose if you just stick your face into your food."

He started to rub the kitten's stomach soothingly to help him calm down. "There we go, it's okay, it's alright now." Although his voice was soft and composed, Sam hoped that giving Dean something to focus on would keep the kitten from noticing how truly frightened he'd been. For one horrible second Sam had been convinced he'd somehow poisoned his brother. _That's it_ he thought firmly. _ No matter how big of a fuss he kicks up, if Dean's not back to normal by tomorrow, he's going to have to eat the cat food I bought._

He felt the tension leaving his Dean's form, even as the feline in his lap stretched himself out even longer to enjoy the sensations. "Feel better now?" Sam asked as he continued to pet the soft, furry little belly.

Dean nodded, his form rumbling with a soft giggling purr as he stretched, allowing Sam to rub more of his stomach. This was a totally different sensation – scritches had a tickly feeling – this made him feel so much more relaxed. Dean thought scritches were addictive; turned out belly rubs damn near made him forget his own name! As his mind surrendered to the warm feelings, however, the scent of the chicken wafted into his nose again. He started to mew and tried to twist out of Sam's arms - that chicken smelled out of this world, and he was STARVING. Sam placed the kitten back on the newspaper-covered bed, and Dean gave himself another shake; this one started at his ears and ran the length of his body until the very tip of his tail vibrated. That accomplished, Dean padded back over to his plate, this time eyeing the chicken a little more cautiously.

_How the hell am I going to do this?_ He wondered. _ Dammit, not having hands really bites!_

Sam looked down at his own hands, his lips in a slight moue of distaste; chicken grease plus cat hair wasn't the most disgusting this he'd ever touched, but it didn't feel especially pleasant either. "I'll be right back, gotta wash up" Sam said as he headed out to the kitchen.

Dean merely nodded, his attention totally focused on trying to outwit the plate of chicken he was starting to feel was mocking him. He tapped his right front paw in annoyance, then looked down at it, his eyes narrowing as an idea suddenly struck. He reached out his paw, extended his claws a little, scooped up a piece of his dinner and quickly brought it to his mouth.

_Yatzee!_ Dean thought triumphantly, savoring the tastes of the chicken as he slowly chewed. His eyes rolled back into their sockets, and Dean let out a low "meeeeeeoow" of pleasure as the flavors bounced around his mouth and slid down his throat. All of a sudden he was so overwhelmed by just how INCREDIBLE the meat tasted. The flavor, the subtle hints of oil and spice, the texture – it was unbelievable! He picked up another scoop, ate it and sat back on his haunches, purring away. This was, without a doubt, the most fucking AWESOME chicken he'd ever eaten in his life.

Sam leaned against the wall dividing the kitchen from the main room and smiled. He'd been trying to think of some way to help his brother out while he'd been washing up; trust Dean to come up with something on his own. His heart glowed with love and amazement over Dean's resourcefulness. Nothing and no one would ever beat him – not Hell, not some witch, not anything. "That taste good?" he asked, even though the answer was pretty obvious.

Dean turned and gave his brother a combination of a purr and a_ chirrup,_ tail whipping back and forth happily. _ You have NO IDEA, Sam!_ He got himself a little more settled in front of his plate, daintily picking up another mouthful.

For the next few minutes man and kitten ate in companionable silence. Sam looked up from his meal every few moments, just to check that Dean was okay. Dean was absorbed in his dinner, savoring each and every bite. Now that he had mastered the best way to eat the chicken, he was determined to enjoy every morsel.

He looked up at one point, caught Sam smiling at him. Dean cocked his head slightly, and a puzzled "Prowr?" worked its way around the food he was chewing.

"It's nothing, Dean" Sam replied. "Don't worry about it."

Dean was not going to be put off, however. Swallowing the second to the last bite of chicken, he fixed Sam with a kitten stare that the younger Winchester realized was as devastating as his own "Puppy Eyes". Sam gave out with a little sigh; he was beaten, and he knew it.

"If I tell you what I was thinking, you've got to promise you're not gonna start lose it and start clawing at me again, okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, anyway.

"Well, it's just that… um, Dean I know you're going to hate me for saying this… but watching you do that little paw thing you've been doing is probably the cutest thing I've ever seen…" Sam stopped talking as Dean began to growl, but then he finished his sentence "but it was also really clever. I don't think I would've been able to think up something like that." Sam chuckled dryly "Oh who am I trying to kid? I wouldn't be able to think PERIOD. I'd be so freaked out if I were the one that spell hit I'd be a wreck. But not you." He smiled at his brother; his brave, noble brother. His voice got a little thicker as his emotions rose to the surface.

"I-I just wanted to tell you; I'm proud of you, Dean. For the way you're handling this. For the way you handle everything."

If he'd still been a human being, Dean would have mocked his brother mercilessly about his "Chick Flick" moments. But somehow, it felt okay to accept Sam's kind words while he was in this form. In fact, it felt pretty nice. Dean stepped around his plate (stopping long enough to scarf down the remaining piece of chicken), walked over to Sam, and gently rubbed his head against his brother's right knee. He purred softly, his whole being sending out the message_ Thanks, Sam_.

Sam blinked away the tears that were dancing in his eyes. It was so ironic that Dean seemed to be able to communicate better now than he could when he had had the power of human speech.

"You still hungry?" Sam asked, smiling as the kitten nodded eagerly. "I got us some green beans…" Dean's head snapped up and the look in his eyes pretty much said it all. Kitten or not Dean Winchester and vegetables were still not on speaking terms. "Okay, okay." Sam held up his hands in mock surrender "I just thought I'd ask..." He looked down into the bag, pulling out the container with the beans in it, along with another one. "How about some mashed potatoes?"

"Meow!" _ NOW you're talking! _ "Mrowr!" _ But first…_ He jumped off the bed, and approached the water dish with caution. He really didn't want a repeat of what had happened with the chicken. He settled down in front of the bowl, and stuck his tongue into the cool liquid. JUST his tongue, not his whole face, which he found worked beautifully.

As Dean lapped up the water, he started to purr again. How had he never noticed just how delicious plain old bottled water tasted? It flowed down his throat so smooth and clean, it was…

_This is as a good as a beer… screw that, it's BETTER than beer!_ He mused happily. Dean paused as he pondered his last thought. Should it worry him that he was feeling this way? Because it didn't concern him at all. Granted the first few hours as a cat he'd felt like shit, but now, things really didn't seem so bad. He still thought like a human, that was all that mattered. But things just seemed a little… clearer now. Bobby would help them figure how to fix this; he'd become his handsome self again in no time. Things would work out.

_Anyways, Sam's been worried I've been drinking too much, but THIS cure is a bit on the extreme side. Whoa, am I becoming one of those optimists? _ Dean chuckled at the idea, took another sip of water, then jumped back up onto the bed to finish the rest of his dinner.

Sam watched the kitten take his place in front of his paper plate, upon which rested a small hill of mashed potatoes. He gestured with his fork, speared with a couple of green beans. "That enough for you?"

"Mew." Now that he'd had some experience in the ways of eating like a feline, Dean abandoned the paw method and simply took smaller bites, careful to keep his nose out of the potatoes. Again he thrummed with pleasure; he could pick out the starch of the spuds, the cream, the butter and salt. _ I cannot get over how freaking awesome this all tastes!_ Dean marveled. It only took about a half dozen mouthfuls of potato, on top of the chicken, for him to start feeling really full. His chewing slowed down, stopped completely.

Sam looked over at the kitten. "Are you finished, Dean?" In spite of himself, he was a little surprised; if Dean were still human he'd have polished of the potatoes and probably try to snake what was left of Sam's. Dean gave him a nod, and pushed the plate away. "You don't even want any dessert? You're sure?" Sam leaned over and picked up one more container from the diner bag. "I got some apple pie for you… um, I'm not really sure you should be having it, but…" Sam's voice trailed off as Dean decisively shook his head "no".

"Meow" Dean said firmly. _ Thanks a lot, Sam, but I think if I eat one more bite I'm gonna hurl. _ He blinked, cocked his head slightly. "Mrrow?" _ Okay, that's weird. I just turned down some pie._ He shrugged and stretched himself out on the covers, feeling too satiated and comfortable to continue that train of thought, his tail flicking lazily back and forth. He started to lick his paws, getting out any extra specks of food he might have missed, along with smoothing his fur. He had been a little worried about the whole grooming himself part. He'd seen enough cats do it before, but he found that once get got into a steady rhythm, it was pretty easy. He lets his mind wander, and for a change it wasn't going anywhere full of fire and darkness and screaming.

"Smaller body, smaller stomach, smaller appetite I guess" Sam mused out loud. "I'll just put this in the fridge for tomorrow, then." With his free hand he also picked up both their used plates and the newspaper. He got up and walked out into the kitchen, junked the refuse and put the carton in the refrigerator. Out of his brother's line of sight Sam leaned against the appliance, a slight frown on his face. Should he be worried that Dean had showed absolutely no interest in the pie? On one hand he was happy that Dean was eating AT ALL – he'd noticed that lately his brother and been drinking more than eating, and not water either.

But on the other hand…

Sam suddenly remembered something, a scrap of trivia from his high school days. Cats were supposedly one of the only animals that will stop eating when they're full. Unlike other creatures which would go on gorging themselves it the food supply was indefinite, a cat would stop before it made itself sick. He wasn't sure if that was true or not, but it did make him wonder; if it was, was that because of a physical thing or was Dean starting to THINK like a cat?

Sam sighed. This whole situation was a mess; what were they going to do if Bobby couldn't find something in his vast library to help change Dean back? Not that Sam had a problem taking care of Dean like this. In fact, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, Dean was EASIER to care for since this transformation. He seemed to accept affection and kindness much more willingly, that haunted look was gone from his eyes…

_Damn it, Sam, stop it! What the hell is the matter with you?_ He thought angrily, lightly banging the back of his head against the fridge in frustration. _ Dean is a freaking kitten! How is this better? He's so helpless, so small, so…_

_Happy? Or at the very least, calmer. _Whispered another part of Sam's mind. _Once he stopped freaking out he settled right into this new phase of life…_

_A "phase". That's all it is. Just a phase. Who knows if it's going to last? What if he starts having those nightmares while he's like this?_

He quietly walked away from the fridge, leaned against the wall, watching the kitten groom himself.

_I-I just want my brother back – all of him_ Sam admitted sadly to himself. He straightened up, a resolute look in his eyes. _ Enough of this. Doesn't matter what form he's in, right now Dean needs me to take care of him. He's looked after me my whole life. The least I can do for him right now is make sure he's comfortable. _ With that thought, Sam walked back to the main room, determined to help Dean make the best of this situation.

They'd figure out what to do. Together.

_______________________________________________________________________

Coming soon: Chapter Five: The Lion Sleeps Tonight… Eventually

(We find Dean sitting on a long white wrought-iron bench. Sam is on his right side, PlatinumRoseLady is seated on his left. They're all pretty quiet. Dean is leaning forward, chin on his fists, elbows on his knees. He looks deep in thought. Sam looks at Platinum over Dean's bowed head. She looks over at Dean, then mouths to Sam "Is he okay?" Sam shrugs.)

PlatinumRoseLady: (Gently bumps shoulders with Dean.) So, um, am I forgiven yet?

Dean: (Still staring straight ahead.) For pulling that stunt with my baby? Well, you didn't damage her, so…yeah, I guess so. And you did make sure I got a really decent meal in that chapter, that was damn nice of you. (Sam gives Platinum a grin and the thumbs up sign, and she smiles.) However… (Dean quickly turns his head to look at Sam, who just as rapidly drops the thumbs up gesture so he can look as innocent as possible. Dean narrows his eyes at his brother, then turns and fixes Platinum with an icy stare. Her smile wavers a little.) I can't help noticing that this chapter's over and I am STILL a kitten.

PlatinumRoseLady: Well, um, yeah, that's true. But Dean, you need to try and look on the bright side.

Dean: The "bright side" being what exactly?

PlatinumRoseLady: Er, well… (Thinking very hard) at least you're not a Darkside kitten. (Both Winchesters stare at her. She shrugs.) Hey, I panicked.

(In spite of himself, Dean's lips are beginning to quirk into a smile. Sam has turned his head so he's not looking at the others, but it's very obvious he's starting to giggle.)

Dean: You are one seriously fucked up person, you know that, right?

Platinum: Oh, Dean, you do say the sweetest things! I knew you liked me! (Throws her arms around Dean in a big hug)

Dean: HEY, watch it! (Extracts himself from her embrace) Crying out loud, were you a python in a past life or something?!

PlatinumRoseLady: Don't think so. But I do like you, Dean. And Sam, too. There are lots of us out there that like you. That's why we write about you guys so much. It's our way of showing that we care.

Dean: Okay, okay, I get it. And I guess its okay. I mean, they're just made-up stories. But you are gonna turn me back?

PlatinumRoseLady: Of course I am, silly!

Dean: Fine. When?

PlatinumRoseLady: Beats the hell outta me. I'm not even sure how many chapters this sucker's going to run. To quote a great man "I don't know, I'm making this up as I go."

(Sam swings his head back around, open-mouth stare of surprise on his face which quickly blossoms into a dimple-showing smile as he recognizes the quote. Stands up and walks over so he's standing in front of Platinum) That was from "Raiders of the Lost Ark!" You're an Indy fan?

PlatinumRoseLady: Dude, what kind of stuff do you think I watch?! "27 Dresses"? (Snorts) As IF. Been an Indy fan for like ever.

Sam: (Holds his hand out – he's such the gentleman) No way! What did you think of the last one?

PlatinumRoseLady: (She takes his hand and he helps her up) "Crystal Skull" was okay… but out of all of them the original's the best. (She and Sam start to walk off, discussing movies)

Dean: Hey, where are you two going?

PlatinumRoseLady: Just to talk and get some coffee. (Dean opens his mouth to protest) Don't worry, Dean, you won't be alone. (Snaps her fingers. Suddenly a woman appears on the bench next to Dean.) Dean, meet Fictionairre. Fic, you already know Dean. She's another Author.

Fictionnaire: Hi! (Holds her hand out)

Dean: Um, hey. (Shakes her hand) How's it going?

Fictionnaire: Really great, thank you. I'm a big fan of yours.

Dean: No kidding? (Grins) Thanks. So what do you think of this whole thing?

Fictionnairre: Platinum's story? (He nods) Well… you promise you won't get mad?

(Dean opens his mouth, but before he can say anything Sam's voice rings out "He promises!" and Platinum chimes in saying "He'll be good, Fic!" Dean shuts his mouth with a snap, sighs. Makes a "go ahead" gesture to Fictionarre.)

Fictionairre: Well, I think you're really adorable as a kitten. (Dean rolls his eyes) Oh, I think you're adorable all the time; it's just that as a kitten you're so… well…

Dean: Cute. I know. (He slumps forward) So much for my badass reputation.

Fictionairre: (Reaches out and starts to gently scratch Dean between his shoulder blades) We all know you're an awesome hunter, silly! I – (She stops talking, her mouth slightly open in shock.)

(Dean hasn't budged an inch since Fictionairre started scratching. His head is slightly bowed, eyes shut in ecstasy, his whole posture completely relaxed… and the noises coming from his throat are as close to purring as a human can get)

(Fictionairre clamps her free hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud until she calms down. She waves Sam and Platinum over. They walk back in, Sam with a cup of coffee, Platinum with a bottle of Diet Pepsi. Sam's mouth drops open, while Platinum walks over and gives Fictionairre a high-five)

Fictionairre: Thanks so much, Platinum! I really wasn't sure it would work!

PlatinumRoseLady: I wasn't either, that's why I was so happy to help. (She turns back to Sam) Um, Sam, love?

Sam: (He's still watching, fascinated at his brother's behavior) Hmmm? What?

PlatinumRoseLady: There some reason you DON'T have your phone out taking pictures of this? (Sam opens his mouth) And before you say anything, four little words: Nair in your shampoo.

(Sam blinks, shuts his mouth, stares at Platinum… and gets a huge (and slightly evil) smile on his face. Holds out his coffee cup) Would you mind holding this for a second?

(Platinum takes the cup with a big grin of her own) Always glad to help.

Sam (Looks over at Platinum) You know, you really are kind of a bad influence…

PlatinumRoseLady: Yeah, I get that a lot actually.

(Sam laughs as he gets out his camera…)

**A/N: The stuff about cats that Sam was thinking about? I've heard it's an urban myth, but I'm not sure.**

**A/N2: Fictionnaire – hope that worked out the way you wanted. She asked me to write in that part and I though it sounded cute. Hope you all did too.**


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